Buena Suerte
by Tabloid
Summary: Ignacio "Bumlets' Boulivardez runs an operation of assassins, who are more like family than associates. How long, though, can they keep themselves safe from Anthony Higgins's more professional group and the police?
1. Day One

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Disney does, nor do I own any characters besides Smalltalk, Tabloid and Smalltalk's.

----------

The young blonde sat at the table in the middle of the dark room. The only light fixture shone straight into her face, and she blinked.

  
A Hispanic man stood in a wide stance, his arms crossed and his face shadowed. When he spoke it was in a smooth, confident voice. "We have a knife in our possession with your prints all over it."  
  
The young woman shrugged. "So? Your point is?"  
  
"My point is, Miss Connors, that this knife is a murder weapon."  
  
"For real?"  
  
The man rolled his eyes. "Yes."  
  
"With _my_ prints?"  
  
"Correct."  
  
"So how did _that _happen?"  
  
"I was hoping you could tell me, Miss Connors."  
  
She shrugged again. "I have no clue."  
  
The man slid a plain, white gift card across the table to the woman. She looked at it briefly, then looked up at him. "That's a very nice white card."  
  
"Would you mind reading that to me, Miss Connors?"  
  
She snorted. "The card's blank."

"Open it, please."  
  
She tucked her hair behind her ear, picked up the card. and opened it. In the middle of the right side lay two words in a rolling script.  
  
"It's not English. I can't read it."  
  
"What language is it?"  
  
"I dunno. Some Latin-based language."  
  
"Did you take Latin in school?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"Can you say that for the recorder, Miss Connors?" he asked, gesturing to the tape recorder on the corner of the table.  
  
"No, I didn't take Latin in school. I spent my extra time on art classes."  
  
"Thank you, Miss Connors."  
  
They fell silent, and the woman began to drum her fingers on the table. "So whatsit say?"  
  
"_Buena suerte_."  
  
"Good luck?"  
  
The man blinked as she giggled nervously and shrank down into her chair." Uh... I went to University of Miami. Most of my friends spoke Spanish as their first language, so before tests and stuff like that they'd say _buena__ suerte_."  
  
"I see," he said dryly, obviously not buying her story. "What if I told you that you were seen entering the victim's house by a neighbor?"  
  
"I'd say you were shitting me, because I wasn't there."  
  
"What if I told you that your prints were all over the doorknob and the countertops in the kitchen?"  
  
She sighed. "Then I'd probably have to admit my relationship with him, wouldn't I?"  
  
"What were you doing that night?"  
  
"Do you really want to know?"  
  
"Miss Connors, I would like an answer."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I was cooking him dinner."  
  
"What were you cooking?"  
  
"Chicken."  
  
He nodded and began to pace the room. "And this dinner... did it involve a knife?"  
  
"Well, you generally need utensils while you prepare a meal."  
  
"And this knife you were using... what exactly happened with it?"  
  
She shrugged. "I cut up the chicken. What more do you need to know?"  
  
"How did the knife wounds appear in the victim?"  
  
"He ran into my knife."  
  
The man blinked once more, staring at her. "He had multiple wounds."  
  
She laughed. "He ran into my knife ten times."  
  
The man groaned and flipped the switch. The lights flickered on, and Kaleigh "Smalltalk" Connors fell out of her chair, laughing.  
  
"Smalltalk, this is _not_ funny."  
  
"Yes... it... is..." she gasped between laughter.  
  
"Smalltalk, shut up."  
  
"I can't do that. If I shut up, I wouldn't be Smalltalk anymore. I'd be Notalk, and that's not as catchy."  
  
Ignacio Boulivardez, also known as Bumlets, ran his hand through his dark hair and leaned against the wall. "Smalltalk, I don't have the patience for this."  
  
"Why not, boss-dude?"  
  
"You need to take this more seriously! What if you were being interrogated by the cops, and you pulled this thing again?! You'd be in jail and in the electric chair before you could say 'just kidding'. And you talk fast."  
  
Smalltalk pulled herself up, and laughed loudly. "I can handle myself, Bumlets. Would I be doing this if I couldn't? Would you have hired me?"  
  
Bumlets sighed. "I guess not."  
  
"Besides," she continued, "I never get caught."  
  
With that she grinned a 'devil may care' grin and spun on her heel towards the door.  
  
"Smalltalk?"  
  
She turned back around. "Yeah?"  
  
"Next time, please don't reference musicals in your alibi."  
  
She laughed. "I'll go to Tabloid for some ideas. Besides, she got off." she added, talking about the character in _Chicago_whose lines she had quoted.  
  
Bumlets shook his head. "No, she didn't."  
  
"Yes, she did!"  
  
"There's no proof."  
  
"Fuck that, we don't need proof!" Smalltalk squealed.  
  
"You _always _need proof."  
  
"You're sounding too professional." Bumlets beamed proudly until she added. "Don't. It scares me."  
  
"Shaddup."  
  
"It does!" Smalltalk insisted. "It's like the real you has been abducted by aliens and now you're really some kind of android and-"  
  
"Oh, yeah? Android this!" Bumlets shouted, and charged towards her. Smalltalk squeaked and ran out of the room, and down the hall.  
  
Everyone in the room turned to look as Smalltalk rushed through the door and took a flying leap over the couch, then crouched behind it.  
  
David "Pie Eater" Jones looked back down at the papers that he had spread out across the table. "I'm not even going to ask."  
  
Bumlets came flying through the door. "Where'd she go?"  
  
"She's dead. That's what you get for annoying a room full of assassins," Brooke Lynn, also known as Ceja Pierce or Hotshot, muttered dryly.  
  
"I don't annoy you! I mean... er...' achoo', said Swifty!" Smalltalk said from behind the couch, pinning the blame on the Chinese man.

"Loser," Kevin "Swifty" Chen accused.  
  
"I'm not a loser! Besides, you love me!"  
  
"Sometimes." Swifty laughed.  
  
"You_ are _a loser, and she's hiding behind the couch," Louis "Kid Blink" Ballet said from the corner where he sat polishing his handgun.  
  
"Love you too!" Smalltalk exclaimed, standing up and crossing her arms.  
  
"You're no fun, Blink!" Ashleigh Bennet, better known as Mayfly, teased. Blink ignored her, and continued polishing his gun.  
  
"You know that thing can't get any cleaner," Isaac "Tabloid" Guarrani observed as he looked at the gun Blink held.   
  
"He knows. He just cleans it because he thinks it help him pick up chicks!" Mayfly crowed.  
  
"I do not!"  
  
"Oh, yes you do, Mister 'Look at me clean my gun, aren't I a big, tough guy' Ballet!" Mayfly squealed, dancing around the room.  
  
Bumlets blinked as he looked over them all. "I surround myself with the strangest people. You're all insane."  
  
"Aren't we one big, happy family?" Karen Stranger said dryly from where she sat next to Pie Eater, leaning against him.  
  
"Family?" Smalltalk blinked then turned to Bumlets and held out her arms. "Daddy!"   
  
Mayfly cackled joyfully. "Tell me a story, Papa Bumlets!"

"… I need some Aspirin." And with that he walked out of the room.  
  
"I feel so unloved," Smalltalk said quietly, letting her arms drop to her sides.  
  
"I love you, Smalls!" 'Rain" Richards cried out, leaping through the doorway.  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"Love!"  
  
"Love!"  
  
"Dear God." Tabloid rolled his eyes.  
  
Smalltalk giggled. "I don't think he talks to you anymore, Tabbers."  
  
"Don't call me that."  
  
"Tabbers!" Smalltalk exclaimed, propelling herself back over the sofa and landing on his lap. "Hi!"  
  
Tabloid pushed her off his lap, and she landed on her butt. "Gerroff."  
  
"Ow." She protested. "I think you broke my butt, Tab."  
  
"Oh, go-" Tabloid was cut off when Lyn 'Orion' Cavenaugh stormed through the door and threw a piece of tattered black cloth at Smalltalk's feet. She bit her lip, focusing to keep her temper controlled.  
  
"Smalltalk," she said, forcing a smile upon her face. "Can you tell me what that is?"  
  
Smalltalk looked down at it, then back at Orion. "It's a piece of chewed-up cloth! Ask me another one!" She grinned wildly.  
  
Orion slowly breathed in, then out. "Can you tell me what it was before?"  
  
"…er… your trenchcoat?"  
  
"Trenchcoat!" Mayfly yelled, punching a fist into the air.  
  
Each member of the group wore a long, black trenchcoat as a joke. Tabloid had mentioned it a year ago and the next day Smalltalk and Mayfly had bought each member a trenchcoat, and everyone grew to love theirs.  
  
"And guess what happened to my trenchcoat?"  
  
"Er…Trenchgoat?"  
  
"Yes! Trenchgoat!" Orion yelled.   
  
The clicking of hooves in the hallway drew Orion's and Smalltalk attention to the door. A small, black goat stood in the doorway, munching on a strip of fabric and looking curiously at the girls.  
  
"Trenchgoat." Smalltalk frowned and the kid backed up a step. "Come here. Now."  
  
Trenchgoat lowered his head guiltily and began to slowly clop over to Smalltalk.   
  
"Trenchgoat, that's a bad goat! You're a bad goat!"  
  
"Wow. That's on my list of things I never thought I'd hear in my lifetime." Swifty commented.  
  
"You hear it every day, you idiot," Pie Eater growled, furiously erasing some calculations on his paper. "Now if you all don't mind, I'm trying to get this right! Will you keep it down?"  
  
Tabloid and Smalltalk traded a sheepish look. "Sorry, Pie."  
  
He sighed. "No problem. Just frustrated."  
  
"You need a hug."  
  
"No, I don't. Play with your goat, Smalltalk."  
  
"Can I put that on my list?" Tabloid asked.  
  
"Knock yourself out," Pie grumbled dryly, gathering up his papers. "I'm going to my room to work."  
  
They watched him leave, muttering something about how much power he'd need for his newest bomb. Smalltalk turned back to Trenchgoat. "No. More. Eating. Clothes."  
  
As a response, Trenchgoat butted his head against her shoulder.  
  
"Awww," Smalltalk cooed. "You're so cute! I didn't mean to yell at you. Eat all of Orion's clothes if you want."   
  
"Hey!" Orion exclaimed, grabbing a pillow off the couch and whacking Smalltalk upside the head with it..  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Jack Kelly rolled out of bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He yawned as he got dressed, slipping his badge in his back pocket and strapping his gun onto his belt.  
  
He walked into the kitchen where his girlfriend, Michelle, stood at the oven. Jack slid his arms around her waist and buried his face in the side of her neck. "'Mornin'." He said sleepily.  
  
Michelle laughed. "It's seven at night, Jack."  
  
"Is it my fault that 'good night' has a different meaning than 'good morning'?"  
  
"No, but it's your fault that you wake up at night."  
  
Jack sighed, pulling his arms back from around her and pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Michelle. Not this again."  
  
"Jack…"  
  
"Michelle, I have to work nights! If I'm going to follow these assassins-"  
  
Michelle rolled her eyes. "Not the assassins again."  
  
"Shelly-"  
  
"Don't make me hurt you, Jack Kelly."  
  
"Michelle-"  
  
"Much better.", she said, putting dinner on the plates.  
  
"-I'm so close to these corporations. Once I bust them, we're gold. I'll get a promotion, and we can move into a big house and get married-"  
  
Michelle began to grin.  
  
"-and have at least two-point-five kids and name them all Jack, even if they're girls. And we'll get a dog, and name it Jack, too-"  
  
"Alright, alright." Michelle laughed, handing him his plate and kissing his cheek. "Just… try not to work nights… I miss having you at home."  
  
"Nights are when all the activity goes on."  
  
"No, nights are when people sleep," she corrected him, sitting down at the table.  
  
"Michelle-" He was interrupted by a knock on the door. He groaned as he checked his watch. "It's Spot. I'm late."  
  
Aiden 'Spot' Conlon walked into the kitchen. "Come on, Jackey-boy. Kiss your girl goodnight and let's go before we get fired."  
  
Jack rolled his eyes and did as his partner told him, then grabbed his hat and began to walk out the door.  
  
"Jack." He turned around.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Michelle nodded to the plate across from her. "What are you going to do with that?"  
  
Jack sighed as Spot began to laugh and grabbed the plate from the table, wrapped in Saran Wap, then put it in the fridge.  
  
"Good night, Raven."  
  
"'Night, Jack," she said quietly as the door to their apartment slammed shut.  
  
She slowly finished eating, then rinsed her dishes and put them in the sink. She then turned off the lights in the apartment, grabbed her jacket and left, locking the door behind her.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgins, leader of Manhattan's prime team of assassins, looked up as Michelle walked into the room, the heels on her shoes clicking loudly. The other high rank members of the elite group sat around a large table.

"You're late, Raven."  
  
"I know," she said, putting her jacket over the back of her chair. "It took Kelly forever to get out of the house."  
  
"You know…" Michael Tirken, known as Snapple because of his obsession over the drink, grinned, "I could always take him off your hands." He laughed from his seat on the left hand side of Racetrack.

  
Raven rolled her eyes, ignoring him. "Race, what's business?"  
  
Racetrack smiled slyly now that the attention was back on him. "We were discussing the…problem on the other side of town."  
  
"Problem?" Daniel 'Snitch' Riccio asked from his seat next to his girlfriend Lute McDonaghey, or Swinger as the others called her.  
  
"Boulivardez, bright one." Jason 'Skittery' Yazbek said.  
  
"Thanks. I am pretty damn smart, aren't I?" Snitch grinned.  
  
"Alright! Alright!" Everyone's attention snapped back to Racetrack.   
  
He cleared his throat. "Raven, can you somehow get the information on Boulivardez and his friends to Kelly?"  
  
The sultry young woman shrugged. "I might. I might not. It'd be hard to do without giving myself away. If I knew about Boulivardez at the same time I'm chiding him to give up on the assassin hunt, it might give him ideas."  
  
"True. Work on it, alright?" Raven nodded as Racetrack stood up. "You're all dismissed. I need to go think."

A/N: God, that's a long fucker! *sigh* Just had to get some up. If you're character's not here yet, I'll introduce him/her later. I just had to end this chapter. And do homework. Ugh. Don't worry, we're starting Chapter Two with Race's group- so the people who don't have rank to be at the meeting can be introduced.

Must do shout-outs (for character givings)

I love-

Froggie (for Snapple)

Gothic Author (for Slant)

Sita (For Mayfly)

Keza (For Stranger)

Ravy (For Raven)

Hotshot (For Hotshot)

Shade (For Rain)

Sinhe (For Orion)

B (For ThreeSee)

Lute (For Swinger)

..And I believe that's all.

And here's to hoping my three dots work.

And here's to smacking myself on the forehead for some reason that I've forgotten already.

Oh! And here's to Trenchgoat! LOVE! LOVE! *loves Trenchgoat*

And Happy Birthday to Gothic Author! Woo! Birthday! Fun.

Can you tell I'm procrastinating on my Chemistry homework? Oh, yeah.

Well, it's 10 and I should do it! Adios!

Love!

-Tabloid

OH! And I must shout out to the Froggie and the Sita-ie for Beta-ing! I love you guys! LOVE! LOVE! *showers them with love*

*showers everyone with love*

*goes to do her Chemistry homework*

Oh, Cards- I HATE CHEMISTRY! *high-fives Cards*


	2. Day Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, and all OCs belong to their respective owners (look at the first chapter!)**

**A/N: This chapter's brought to you by the letter Q!**

Mayfly was bored. She had spent the last four hours parked down the street from this guy's house, watching and waiting, and he refused to show his face. She shook her head.

Targets were so unreliable.

She put down her copy of _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince _(it was getting a bit annoying, actually. After all, everyone knows that Lupin is far too homosexual to be with Tonks.), and got out of the car, smoothing her jeans. Sighing, she walked past a few houses to the one that Mr. Weisel called home.

Mayfly trudged up the steps, her legs stiff from the hours spent in the car, and knocked. No one answered. Frustrated, she slammed her fist against the door.

"Ow!- huh?"

With the contact, the door swung open.

The brunette hesitated for a second, then stepped inside the house. Something was up, something was wrong- she could tell by the way the hair on the back of her neck had pricked up.

But if something was wrong, good ol' Papa Bumlets would want to know.

She snickered. Papa Bumlets. That was a good one.

The house was perfect- kept clean, kept neat, nothing out of place. And Mayfly knew that someone had been here- after all, Weisel lived here with his two adult nephews. God knows that three men cannot keep a clean house.

Unless one of them was gay.

Mayfly was pondering that thought when she found Mr. Weisel in the closet.

At least, what remained of Mr. Weisel.

There was so much blood, as he was mutilated almost beyond recognition- even Mayfly, who had spent weeks studying his pictures, had to take a second to make sure it was him. And that time of ceaseless inspection made her a little queasy, which surprised her. After all, she had killed countless people, some with her bare hands. What's a little blood after that?

But the truth was that the thing that made her stomach twinge even more was the note- the one pinned to his chest by a wire hanger.

_You're outmatched. You're outnumbered. And now you're running out of time._

Buena Suerte_, Ashleigh._

_-R.H._

Mayfly had never run from anything in her life. So, as she raced out of the Weisel house, note clenched in a blood-stained hand, she told herself the reason that she was running was that Bumlets needed to know about this as soon as possible.

-----

"Dutchy" Pelella had been watching the bespectacled boy for the past thirty minutes, making sure not to attract the boy's attention- and after two years of working for Bumlets, that was ridiculously easy.

But Dutchy wasn't watching the brunette because he was a target. Nor was he watching him for the same reason others were: because the boy wore (proudly) a rainbow shirt declaring that he wasn't gay but his boyfriend was.

No. Dutchy was watching him because the boy was a total _babe_.

And now Dutchy was bored of watching. Dutchy wanted to be doing something- preferably the other young man- but for now he would have to content himself with walking over and plopping himself down in the seat next to him.

The young man looked up, an eyebrow raised over the frames of his glasses. "Can I help you?"

Dutchy nodded, allowing his blond locks to fall into his eyes- something which he knew made him just plain sexy.

And he smiled as the other guy took notice, then gulped, the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, unnecessarily, then continued. "I'm Yuri Palella."

"Seth Quinn." The brunette said, sticking his hand out awkwardly. Dutchy shook it, then met his eyes for the first time.

And his stomach did a flip flop- when he said this boy was a babe, he hadn't realized exactly how _much_ of a babe.

So he turned on his Dutchy charm full force, and their conversation carried on for the next hour- until his beeper when off.

"Shit." He said, glaring at the piece of black plastic in his hand, and getting to his feet. "Well, good-bye."

"Wait." Dutchy stopped and waited as Seth scribbled something on a napkin. "Call me?"

Dutchy grinned. "Of course."

And with that he stuck the napkin into his pocket and strolled out of the coffee house with a large grin on his face.

-----

The grin, however, wore off as he walked into the old warehouse-turned-headquarters/home that he and his colleagues resided in.

Mayfly was shaken, Swifty looked grim, Smalltalk was concerned and fluttery, and worst of all: Bumlets was nervous.

Dutchy eased himself into an armchair and looked to his boss. The rest of the group- everyone was present- did the same.

Bumlets sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. "Guys. I won't lie to you. This isn't good-"

"Coulda fooled me." Tabloid grumbled sarcastically, but was quickly quieted with a glare.

Karen Stranger passed Dutchy the note, and the blonde quickly read it and paled.

"Mayfly," Bumlets continued. "I don't know why he's watching you, but for the next couple of weeks or so, you're staying here. We're not risking you-"

Hotshot cut him off. "Wait a second, okay, Bumlets? How about you fill us in here a little? Who is this R.H. person, why's he following Mayfly, and why would her _life_ be in danger?"

Bumlets sighed as every head in the room turned to him. "To be frank, every life in this room may be in jeopardy."

"Alright, Bumlets, you've got our full attention." Pie Eater said, leaning back and resting an arm across Karen's shoulders.

Their leader sighed, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the wall. "I'm not entirely sure, but R.H. may be Racetrack Higgins-"

"You mean the Big Boss Man from the other side of town?" Smalltalk interrupted. "What the hell does he want with _us_?"

"Shut up. Smalltalk." Rain snapped. "You know Bumlets used to work for him!"

"Yeah, but Bumlets mentioned that in a meeting, so I doubt Smalltalk was paying attention." Swifty put in.

The girl in question rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Can we talk about important things, like how Mayfly's gonna die?"

"Hey!" Mayfly protested.

"Sorry, May." Smalltalk said sheepishly.

"Higgins isn't very happy with me." Bumlets continued, ignoring Smalltalk. "But… with this note, you all could be in danger. Serious danger."

He sighed. "You should all leave, for your safety."

The group was silent for a second, until Smalltalk guffawed. "Leave? Papa Bumlets, are you out of your mind?"

"Yeah," Mayfly put in. "Racetrack Higgins doesn't scare us!"

"I know! He's, like, five-two. My grandmother could take him."

"Your grandmother's _grandmother_ could take him!"

"My grandmother's grandmother's _grandmother_ could take-"

"Alright, alright." Bumlets grinned and raised his hands, defeated.

"Besides," Karen added. "We're not leaving you to fend for yourself."

"Yeah, what kind of cronies would we be if we did that?" Orion added, snickering.

"Besides." Smalltalk interjected again. "Trenchgoat loves you. What kind of person would I be if I separated you two?"

Bumlets rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Just don't way I didn't warn you."

Swifty laughed. "Come on. Since when have _any_ of us ever taken your advice?"

------

Seth Quinn went home and changed about twenty minutes after Dutchy left the coffee house. An hour later, he walked into work- showered, fresh faced, and dressed in a suit.

Within seconds his boss, Racetrack Higgins, swept down upon him. "Specs! Where the hell have you been- I wanted those reports on my desk an hour ago!"

Specs swore. What had he done with those things? He faintly remembered printing out copies, putting them in a folder labeled "Classified", and then-

Leaving them on his desk. He swore again. "Sorry, boss, they're on my desk. I'll get them to you in a minute."

Racetrack glared at him. "Don't let this happen again, Specs. Or else."

Specs didn't want to know what "or else" meant.

------

"_Just remember,"_ _Bumlets said, frowning._ _"Racetrack Higgins isn't the kind of guy you just screw around with. If you do, you're dead. So be extra careful, and be sure to look out for each other. You watch each others backs- or the next time you see someone it may be face-up in a coffin."_

------

Dutchy was having serious issues taking this Higgins threat seriously. And he _tried_ to, but the problem was that, no matter what, he pictured Racetrack Higgins and his cronies as tall, curly-haired men with glasses.

It was about the twelfth time that he tried scaring himself that he decided that the best remedy would be giving this boy a call.

And with that he excused himself, and ran back to his room.

From there he pulled out the napkin, flipped open his cell phone, and dialed the number.

-------

Specs grabbed his phone as soon as it started ringing, but made sure to wait until the third ring to answer it. Eager does not equal attractive.

"Hello?"

"Uh, Hi. Seth?"

"Yeah."

"This is Yuri."

He knew that, but still had to restrain himself from dancing with glee. Though it was significantly easier to do when he remembered where he was- the boss would not be happy if one of his guys started shimmying because a boy called him, now would he?

Specs was thinking "No".

"Anyway, I know this is short notice, but I was wondering- hoping, actually- you'd care to join me at McKenna's Brewery tonight?"

Specs quickly agreed, and after setting up a time to meet, decided that he was positively giddy.

-----

The first half of their date went off without a hitch- they had arrived at McKenna's, gotten drinks, and sat in the back (the only place far enough way from the house band, The Retakes, that they would actually be able to hear each other.)

They were talking when Specs looked over Dutchy's shoulder at someone. "Uh, Yuri, do you know them?" he asked, gesturing.

Dutchy turned around to see Smalltalk's eyes widen as she realized she'd been noticed. He sighed. "Yeah. Those are my friends."

He yelled over. "Smalltalk! Come here!"

"I can't, Dutchy, I'm involving myself in a conversation with Mayfly, Swifty, Tabloid and Karen in order to hide the fact that I'm watching you!"

Dutchy rolled his eyes. "I have the strangest friends." Specs laughed in agreement.

"I'll be right back," he said, getting up and walking over to the others' table. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Living vicariously through you, love." Mayfly quipped.

He stared back at her. "Seriously. I'm trying to have a date, here."

"And we're trying to make sure you don't get offed before you can get laid." Karen responded.

"Uh… thanks?"

"No problem."

Mayfly waved her arms at him, shooing him away. "You go have your date, and forget we're here. Now. Boy is waiting for you! You can not deny him your Dutchyness!"

Smalltalk cackled at Dutchy rolled his eyes. "Why do I have the most deranged friends?"

"Just lucky!" Smalltalk shouted to him as he walked back to where Specs sat, waiting.

-----

Although they tried to be inconspicuous, Dutchy noticed when Mayfly, Smalltalk, Swifty and Karen followed him and Specs out of McKenna's and down the street. It was a bit annoying, actually.

He had to admit that he _was_ an attention whore, but no one wants their date to be public entertainment. And he knew that's what it was when Mayfly would begin to giggle wildly at their actions- especially when Specs took his hand.

The giggling was seriously throwing him off.

They all sucked at tailing someone. Dutchy seriously wondered how they managed to make a living in this 'career'- the constant giggling had to hinder their productivity.

Specs look at him. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm counting how many ways I can kill Ashleigh." He replied, looking over his shoulder at Mayfly.

His date laughed. "How many've you come up with?"

"I'm on number forty-two."

"Really?" Specs raised an eyebrow. "You're a creative one."

Dutchy chuckled, then grinned at Specs. "It's part of my charm."

Specs returned the smile.

-----

Later that night, Dutchy lay in bed next to a sleeping Specs (Dutchy had accompanied him to his apartment after they ditched the gang).

A grin crossed his face as he turned to look at the man next to him. _Yes, I can definitely get used to this…_

-----

Jack Kelly opened the door to his apartment, about to leave, only to run into Michael Tirken. The latter surveyed him with a slight smirk on his face, fingering the necklace of Snapple caps that adorned his neck.

"Hey, Jack, is Michelle here?"

Jack nodded, thrown off a little (of course, he always was- Michael had the habit of _leering_ at him all the time.)

"Michelle!" he called back into the apartment, then turned back to Michael. "Well, I've got to go. Work, you know."

Michael nodded. "Yeah, have fun, Jackey-boy."

He stepped inside the apartment and shut the door as Raven walked up to him.

"What's up, Snaps?" she asked, dark eyes questioning.

Snapple grinned, and pulled a plain white card out of his pocket. Raven took it from him, opened it, and read:

_Buena Suerte._

She looked back up at him. "What's this about?"

Snapple's grin widened. "You'll see."

-----END

**Ahahaha. This is going to be brilliant.**


End file.
